


Mother Knows Best

by CrystallicSky



Series: Oneshots [23]
Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: All Bets Are Off, But He's Self-Sabotaging His Love Life, Chack, Chase's Mom Harrasses Him, From Beyond the Grave, Ghosts, M/M, Momma Young Ships It, Mother-Son Relationship, She'll Let Him Being Evil Slide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-03
Updated: 2008-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystallicSky/pseuds/CrystallicSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chase Young has a serious talk with a woman that's been out of his life for many a year.</p><p>Well...many a century, maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother Knows Best

Chase had been feeling _off_ all day.

His sense for the supernatural, by necessity, was extremely high, and from dawn to now, he'd been feeling itchy and tense, as if something _huge_ was about to happen.

He had accomplished nothing with his day because of this, and even now, _past_ the end of said day, the sensation was keeping him from sleeping— no position he tried was comfortable and none of the sheets and pillows he had felt right.

It was only when the clock struck 3:00 AM, while he rolled over in his bed, aggravated, and attempted in vain to get some rest, that he finally understand why.

_"Hello, my bǎo bǎo."_

The warlord froze at the gentle, female voice, one he had not heard in centuries. He sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist as he turned to face the transparent figure at his bedside with wide eyes.

"M… _mother_?" he questioned, stunned to the core.

The middle-aged woman smiled softly at him, lovingly. _"Yes, ér, it is I."_

For a long moment, the great and powerful Chase Young was shocked stupid and had nothing to say, simply staring like a fool at the apparition of his long-dead mother.

When he recovered his ability to speak (though a quiver of unease lingered in his voice), however, he not-quite demanded, "What are you doing here? You are dead."

She frowned at him disapprovingly, chiding, _"Is that any way to greet your mother after so many years? I thought I raised you better, ér."_

Being reprimanded for bad behavior as if he were still twelve when he was a full-grown man made Chase feel extremely awkward. He just as uncomfortably conceded, "I...apologize, mother."

_"Now see, Chenglei, it is not so hard to respect your own mǔ."_

The warlord flinched at the name and corrected, "It's Chase, now, mother."

The dark-haired woman sighed at this, a regretful expression crinkling her frown-lines even further. She sat at the edge of her son's bed. _"I am sorry...Chase,"_ the name was obviously unfamiliar on her tongue, and she was ill at ease to actually speak it. _"You must forgive an old woman for forgetting the great evil her son has grown up to be."_

Chase was given pause at the pain in her voice, and he inspected her carefully. Her black hair was pinned atop her head as it always had been and the dress she wore was as simple and unremarkable as her looks. (Beauty had always been patrilineal in their family: the women were plain and ordinary and the men gorgeous and eye-catching, a bit like peacocks). Of course, her eyes, the same shade of gold as his own, were full of sadness.

Having long ago forgotten how to comfort another person, Chase simply remained silent, waiting until he was first addressed.

 _"Despite what you have become,"_ she spoke gently, laying a cold, wispy hand on her son's cheek, _"you are still my son, and I still hold you dear to me. You have become a strong, beautiful man in your mother's absence, Che_ —... _Chase."_

Without so much as blinking, the dragonlord demanded, "If you were so upset with my choices, why did you not appear to me earlier? Why have you come to me now?"

She smiled, though the smile did not reach her eyes. _"Though I have watched over you since the moment of my death, I did not interfere in your life despite your choices you have made because they were what **you** wanted.  As I said, you are a man, now, and are entitled to make decisions as you choose. __Far be it from me to keep you from what you truly want_ — _but_ _I am here now because this time, you are making a terrible mistake. If I do not stop you from making it, I fear you shall remain unhappy for the rest of your days."_

"What is this 'terrible mistake' you speak of?"

 _"You build your walls so high and so strong,"_ she cooed softly, wrapping her arms around Chase's shoulders. _"You do it to protect yourself from those that may hurt you, but you have never stopped to think of those important to you that are outside those walls, being scalded with the oil you yourself have spilled onto them."_

Chase was mystified by the analogy. "Mother...?"

 _"You wound him deeply,"_ the woman said, _"for which there is no need. He loves you very much, you know."_

"No!" Chase growled in sudden understanding, trying to force the ghost away from him. "I will _not_ —"

 _"If you do not, you are a fool!"_ the apparition snapped, making Chase go still in sheer surprise. _"He feels so much for you,"_ she continued more delicately. _"I do not believe you even realize that he would gladly love you until the end of time would you only let him in."_

"I won't," he refused. "I do not _want_ Spicer's love—"

_"You may not want it, but you **need** it. Do you truly understand how lonely you are? You have no one, but that boy **could** be someone! I have come to you because you are on the verge of throwing away true love, and I cannot let my own son act so thoughtlessly. You will take him."_

"Oh?" the warlord challenged. "And what shall make me do so?"

 _"Me,"_ the woman answered as if it were obvious. _"I am your mother and you shall heed my words."_

Chase scoffed. "Mother or no, I refuse to be ordered about by a dead woman."

 _" **Please** , ér,"_ she begged, _"I cannot see you throw this away. He is beautiful, he is intelligent, and he can **love** you. Does that mean nothing to you?"_

"Not where Spicer is concerned," he declared.

 _"You would work so well together,"_ she sighed, sounding mournful. _"I wish that for your sake, you would at least consider what I have to say."_

"How could you have any idea of our compatibility?" Chase sneered.

 _"Mother's intuition,"_ the woman answered. _"I simply **know** that the two of you would be so good a couple. It pains me to see you waste your one opportunity to be happy and not even **try** to know what it would be like to have his love."_

The warlord's will wavered just a little at the undertone of tears in her voice as she pleaded with him, and he gave it (extremely brief!) consideration. Would it really be so awful to comply with her request? After all, she had never said he need _keep_ Spicer, only that he...consider what she was saying, perhaps give the boy a try.

With this, he reached a reluctant decision.

"Mother," Chase began firmly, "I give you no guarantee of anything. I do not promise to love him, and I do not promise to keep him, but I shall... _try_."

The ghost of the woman who'd raised him smiled, tears still in her eyes but now from happiness, and she hugged her child tightly. _"Oh, my bǎo bǎo,"_ she cooed joyfully, _"thank you. You will not regret this, I promise you!"_

"We'll see." Somewhat haltingly, Chase hugged back. "...you must leave now...mǔ?"

 _"Yes, ér,"_ she nodded regretfully, _"I must. But please...we have established that you are a man now: you may call me by my name."_

With a small measure of surprise at this, Chase conceded, "Very well. Weici."

 _"Remember two things, bǎo bǎo,"_ she lovingly spoke, gently petting black-green hair. _"That I shall always love you and that if you allow him the chance, Jack Spicer can make you happier than you know."_

And with that, Weici was gone, disappeared like fog in Chase's arms.

Chase sighed and flopped back against the pillows, wondering just what his mother had gotten her 'darling baby' into...

 

* * *

 

"It's our anniversary, Chase," informed a voice from his side.

"So soon?" the man wondered with a small measure of surprise. "It seems I cannot have had you as mine for a century already."

Jack snickered and half-sat up in bed, the covers still mostly on him as he put his hand on his lover's bare stomach. He was clearly revelling in his permission to touch the warlord, something he still managed to be in awe about even after a century of having it. "Time flies when you're having fun," he quipped cheerily.

"Very true," Chase admitted, leaning forward to take the albino's lips with his own. "Happy anniversary, Spicer."

This seemed to give the goth pause and he absently wondered, "Hey...why'd you ever give me a shot? I mean, it was literally, like, 'I loathe you, insect,' one day and 'use more tongue, Spicer' the next. What made you change your mind? About me, I mean?"

Chase simply smiled and shook his head, kissing the love of his black heart fiercely in place of an answer.

He would rather not ruin the mood of their one hundred-year anniversary by causing Jack to laugh himself into a coma at the phrase, "My mother made me," coming from his lips.


End file.
